to sit at your feet
by Letters and Numbers
Summary: ten years after they disbanded, the phantom thieves make their annual road trip to kamiyama. but old wounds do not mend so easily.


**.**

.

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 **the prodigal son**

* * *

He could have stopped.

Ryuji Sakamoto picked up the habit as a third year at Shujin Academy, much to his friends' chagrin. It's bad for your health, they warned. It's self-destructive.

He took the first one of the day during the mid-morning lull at work. While his peers were chatting by the water cooler, he would step outside, unpocket his lighter, and breathe. He'd breathe until the cherry was bright and orange, until his cheeks were sucked in and gaunt, until he could feel those happy little chemicals coursing through his brain. It felt nice. Like a runner's high. It felt nice and warm.

When he headed back inside, his coworkers stared at him knowingly, like a father whose teenage son came home late after 'studying' at his girlfriend's house. Their thoughts were written all over their eyes.

Delinquent. Low-life. Trash. All because he couldn't stop.

Ryuji almost laughed. These assholes were so beige they thought vanilla ice cream was spicy, and they had the audacity to judge him?

Well, fuck 'em. Fuck 'em to hell. He could kill himself if he liked, he'd earned the right. He'd lived more than twice the lives they ever would, plodding around their polycarbonate cubicles with their corporate koozies and Excel spreadsheets, their stupid Excel spreadsheets, those stupid motherfucking shitty ass Excel _Goddammit if I have to fill out another one of those pieces of shit I'm going to blow out my motherfucking brains fuck shit fuck._

Fuck.

Ryuji clamped his left hand. He glanced down at the soft pack of Seven Stars in it. SMOKING KILLS.

Fuck it, he thought, ripping it open. He was here for a good time, not a long time. He'd smoke if he damn well pleased. It was his privilege — no, his God given right, along with his life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It was fucking unalienable.

A cloud of nicotine laced pleasure plundered his lungs. He clenched his jaw and exhaled through his flared nostrils, white smoke jetting in neat little streams. He looked down at the cigarette. At least these were still good. At least these never let him down.

"Seriously Ryuji? Another one?"

Ryuji glimpsed at the woman sitting to his left. "Damn right," he snorted, thumbing the ash out the window. "Work's been mad stressful this week. I'm takin' the edge off."

The woman sighed, her blonde pigtails hanging by her ears like spring foxgloves. "Couldn't you at least wait until we got there? You already finished a whole pack before we left."

The bridge of his nose wrinkled as he took another drag. "It's a free country Ann."

"Just because it's a free country doesn't mean I can't worry about you."

Ryuji gazed out the window. He stared at the slow moving river just on the horizon, its water pewter grey under the overcast sky. "Hmph. Whatever."

Ann was probably right to worry. In the past ten years his habit had only gotten worse. The skin under his eyes was pale and sagged ever-so-slightly. Shallow lines formed like crow's feet around his lips. That boyish expression he wore as teenager — the one with the cocksure smirk that dangled off the side of his lips — had been replaced by the tired grimace of a weathered man.

Maybe if he had taken better care of himself when he was younger things would have been different. If he hadn't gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd, abused every substance he got his hands on, fallen in and out of love with any woman that gave him the slightest bit of attention. Maybe then he wouldn't be living a nine to five nightmare surrounded by strangers who spent weekends clipping coupons and used their free time to finish crosswords. Maybe then he could have stopped...

No, that wasn't right. Those were just excuses. The real reason why he didn't stop was because he didn't _want_ to stop. He enjoyed every second of it. When he did it, he felt amazing. He felt like he was living. He felt alive. That was the truth.

That was the truth.

Ryuji inhaled once more and flicked the sooted cigarette butt out the window. "Yo, Makoto. How much longer is it gonna be?"

The woman driving the van, Makoto Niijima, adjusted the rearview mirror. Her crimson eyes checked Ryuji, then the time on the clock. "Another eight hours if we don't hit any traffic," she said. "Think you can make it?"

"I make it every year. This one isn't gonna be any different." Ryuji leaned his head back and sighed, then closed his eyes. "But damn, why's it gotta be so far away?"

"He always did love the countryside," Haru chimed from the passenger seat. Her voice was soft and motherly. It was the kind of voice you'd use to whisper encouragements to the plants in your garden in the hopes that they'd grow from willpower and compassion alone. "We all knew he'd want to go back there once everything was finished."

"It's like the saying goes," said Morgana, the black cat sitting on Haru's lap. "You can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the boy."

"Yeah. I guess that's true," Ryuji said.

"And besides," Morgana added. "It gives us an excuse to see each other once a year and catch up."

The low thrumming of the engine drowned the van with an uncomfortable silence. Makoto bit her bottom lip. Haru shifted in her seat. Ann locked onto her knees. Ryuji breathed through his nostrils.

"Has it really only been a year?" Ann finally asked, dispelling the quiet.

"Time does drag along slower these days," Makoto said, casting Ann a sidelong glance. "It's not like when we were the Phantom Thieves."

"The Phantom Thieves… My, that's a name I haven't heard in a long time," Haru said.

"Yeah. Pretty crazy that no one ever mentions them anymore," Ann said.

"There was no need to after we disbanded," Makoto said. "While it might have been odd for us to adjust, for everyone else, life just turned back to the way it was before."

"Yeah…" Ann whispered. "With everything that's been going on with me, I guess it just feels like it's been forever."

"I too feel like an eternity passes whenever I'm apart from you, Lady Ann," Morgana said.

Ryuji sneered at the feline's advances. It might have been ten years since they entered the Metaverse and vowed to steal wicked hearts together, but some things never changed. "Seriously Morgana? You're still keepin' up with that whole 'Lady Ann' routine?"

"It's not a routine," Morgana said. "It's the duty of a true gentleman to always treat his Lady with the utmost respect."

"You do know she's married, right?"

Morgana puffed with grandiose self-importance. "A _true_ gentleman will always look after his Lady, regardless of where her heart lies."

"Well that's stupid," Ryuji said.

"No, _you're_ stupid," Morgana shot back. "Ten years later and you're still the big bully you've always been."

Ryuji stayed silent. Maybe a few years back, when he still had the energy and drive, he would have come back at Morgana with something. Not anything clever of course. Probably just an insult you'd hear on an elementary school playground. Overgrown hairball. Walking carpet. Dumb cat. But he couldn't muster even that now. He was old, and numbed, and tired.

So he settled for, "Sure," and hung his arm out the window. He looked back at the river that wound into the skyline. His eyes followed it upstream, watched it glint in the rare sun that escaped between the voluminous grey clouds. He wondered how far it flowed, how fast it glided, how smooth the currents ran on its surface. He wondered how long it was to the bottom of that river.

"Hey, scoot over," Ann said, shoving Ryuji by the shoulder. "You're hogging up all the space."

Ryuji looked at Ann. Eyes blue like forget-me-nots. Ringlets of ash blonde hair that curtained a heart shaped face. Calamine pink lips that he once longed to capture in his own. She'd aged remarkably well, still maintained that spirit of youth in her gaze, still burned with the same passion of those hot summer days on the Shujin Academy rooftop. She brought out that rebellious nature in him.

His mouth gradually pulled into a smirk. It was an arrogant, charming kind of smirk, and he almost looked handsome. "I doubt it. Your bony model ass barely takes up anything."

"Rude," Ann said, and shoved his shoulder even harder.

"Not gonna work," Ryuji said. "You should stop now before you break a nail, princess."

Ann laughed. "Seriously? Princess? You can say that with a straight face?"

"It's a classic."

"For cavemen, maybe. That term was still old when our parents' parents were kids."

Ryuji grinned. "You know, I'd really like to meet your husband one day. He must be seriously patient, having to put up with your nagging all the time."

Ann's face scrunched in playful annoyance. "You're such an ass."

He spread his legs even wider apart. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Ann tittered at the gesture, then delivered a soft punch to his forearm. "Don't be shitty."

"You're the shitty one, nagging me on this nine hour drive. This is the reason I smoke, y'know."

"Hey, stop fighting you two," Makoto said with a light smile. "I'll turn this van around if I have to."

"And save us the trouble of traveling all the way to Kamiyama?" Ryuji said flippantly, his hands gathering on the back of his neck. "Yes please, count me in. We can stop off at the next exit to grab some lunch."

Haru frowned. "That's not very considerate, Ryuji," she hummed. "You know we all agreed to go to Kamiyama once a year."

"Yeah Ryuji," Ann said. "Weren't you the one who suggested it?"

"Right," Ryuji began. "But come on. That was ten years ago. I didn't actually think we were gonna go through with it."

"But it's the only time we get to see him," Haru said.

"So? We've been making this trip for the past ten years, we can afford to skip out on one."

"Hey Ryuji, cut it out," Ann said, her face becoming severe. "It's not funny anymore."

"Then we could go out to bars, maybe drink a little, have some actual fun."

"Ryuji, stop."

"I mean, if he really wants to see us that badly, why doesn't he come to Tokyo!"

For a moment all Ann saw was white. "Ryuji!" she shouted, this time out of genuine anger. She sat forward in her seat, her brows angled and fierce, the tendons on her neck corded. "Don't even joke about that. Just don't. You know this is the only time of the year we can all get together. This is the only time we ever get to visit Akira."

The tension in the air grew stiff and died.

His eyes rounded with realization.

" _Oh... fuck."_

" _Oh fuck."_

Ryuji felt a pain burrowing into his chest. Ann's face stared at him, both hot and cold at once. He looked around and saw the faces of all his friends staring at him, judging him. Their thoughts were written all over their eyes.

Delinquent. Low-life. Trash. All because he couldn't stop.

He didn't want to take it that far, he thought. He just wanted to play around, crack a few jokes, act like the rebellious teenager Ann's gaze made him feel, if only for a day. He didn't mean to upset them. He didn't mean to hurt them.

"... You're right," Ryuji said, his tone low and apologetic. "That wasn't cool of me to say. I was just kidding around… but I crossed the line. I'm sorry." He turned to observe Ann. Her eyes were still fastened on him, boring two holes into his forehead with that harsh, indignant gaze. He shrank in his seat.

"It's fine," Ann sighed after a few long seconds and turned away from him, her arms folded over her chest. "Just… you didn't have to keep going on like that. You could have stopped."

He could have stopped.

Ryuji looked out the open car window. The wind blowing past his dyed blonde hair sounded alive, in agony. It bristled the short hairs on his neck. The river that was in the horizon disappeared behind a thicket of cedars and was no longer visible. He closed his eyes and felt the breeze against his cheeks.

The signs might have been there, but he didn't see them. He was too stupid, too young, too drunk on booze, drugs, life.

It was the third year of university. She was in his philosophy class. Bright blonde hair, big blue eyes, a smile that could light the sky. She looked just like Ann. She was so beautiful.

They spent weekdays together. Weeknights too. Watched television on his futon, bought takeout together, talked all night on his bed. He fell for her slowly, then all at once. She was the same. It was fast, and exciting, and passionate. He helped her move into his place. She brought him to meet her family. They began talking about the future. They always made sure not to say 'our future' though. They didn't want to take it _that_ fast. Just fast enough that the were always doing something, fast enough that they were always be moving. They drank and slept and played and when they grew bored of that they loved and loved and loved some more. It felt nice. It felt warm.

He wished they could have stayed like that forever.

He graduated. She stayed. Only one year, he told her. Then they could be together. The texts were enough at first. Hearts and smiles and 'goodnight' and 'I love you.' But they became less frequent. She still posted pictures all the time though. Out at parties. With her friends. With other guys. Who's that in the picture with you? That's just Hiro, sweetie, he's a friend. How about him? Oh that's Rui, he's basically like a brother to me. And that one? Baby, don't worry so much. You know you're the only one for me.

Okay. I won't worry. Goodnight, darling. Love you. Message sent. Message read. No reply in the morning.

He was going to surprise her one weekend. He was going to visit her dorm on campus and take her out to dinner. He already made the reservations, dressed all fancy, brought flowers. He didn't mind if she didn't dress up like him, he just wanted to show her a good time. Doorbell. No response. Doorbell again. No response. Called her phone. Nothing. A stranger happened to be going into the same dorm. She opened the door for him. He went inside.

He walked up the stairs to her room and waited outside her door. There were voices. Two voices. And there were sounds. It was loud and passionate and it sounded like they did when they loved and loved and loved on the bed. He burst into the room. She was there. So was someone else. She hid her face in her pillow. He covered himself up and started apologizing.

Who was it, he wondered, standing in the doorway. The friend? Or the one who was like a brother? The world shrank into a pinpoint. He didn't care who it was anymore. He was going to kill him. He was going to fucking kill him.

A punch to his jaw. He wobbled. A punch to his gut. He keeled over. Another to his gut. He fell backwards on the floor and groaned. She was crying now, eyes puffy and red. He straddled his chest. She told him to get out. He beat his fists into his face. She screamed for him to stop. He left a puddle of a man on the floor, purpled and swollen and almost unrecognizable. She called the police.

A cramped room with four grey walls. A single light pooling on a cold metallic table in front of him. Pictures of the incident — they called it a crime scene. Pictures of the crime scene. His purpled and swollen face in four snapshots. All angles. Almost unrecognizable. The words the man in the peacoat in front of him spoke were muffled, sounded as if he were hearing them underwater.

Aggravated assault. Potential brain damage. Six months. Best deal. You could have stopped.

You could have stopped.

But he didn't stop. He didn't want to stop. He enjoyed every second of it. When he did it, he felt amazing. He felt like he was living. He felt alive. That was the truth.

That was the truth.

A penitentiary. A black mark on his record. A permanent label.

Delinquent.

Low-life.

Trash.

Ryuji opened his eyes and stared out the window. He felt a stinging in them as he tightly clutched the package of Seven Stars to his breast.

Maybe if there was anyone left who cared about him he wouldn't be like this.

Maybe then he could have stopped.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hi friends, thanks so much for reading! This is a short, nine chapter story that I started writing several weeks ago. While it isn't finished, I have completed a detailed rough draft. I'll be releasing a chapter every once in a while after I've made significant edits to them, so be on the look out if you're interested!

This fic started as a concept of a one-shot road trip, but I kept on writing and eventually it turned into a full fledged story. It was heavily inspired by **Blankedty's** _Persona 5: UnGrown Up_ , and **izarsa's** _Swear To My Bones_ , two amazing stories in the Persona 5 fandom that explore the topic of the Phantom Thieves as adults. Please please please read them if you get the chance, they're absolute gems and deserve all the praise they get and more.


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